On Human Bonding

Tonight, as we watched the 4th season episode of Mad Men entitled "The Suitcase", I did something that only a saint of a wife would ever put up with: I paused the show for several minutes so Vicki and I could discuss something that the program had made me think of.

In this case (no pun intended), it was my decades-long observation that there seem to be a lot of people on this planet of ours who are likely to have what I'll call a "bonding experience" with someone only to then revert to their original disposition toward that other person "the next day" (or at some point shortly thereafter). In other words, it seems like they're bonding but it doesn't last at all. So, for example, John might work late with Peter one night and the two men get to exchanging personal stories about themselves. Some of the walls between them come down over the course of the evening, and each person gets a deeper appreciation for the other. They see new sides of each other, trust is extended in various ways that never has been before, and it appears - at the time - like a new friendship is born.

However, the next time they happen to be in a setting together, it's like none of that ever happened. They're just as likely to turn on each other as they'd ever been, or they simply have no more empathy for the other person than they did before the "bonding experience." Or, as sometimes happens, one of them feels the new-found connection afterward but is surprised to discover that it's not mutual. (Mad Men often features both versions of that scenario.)

And just to be clear: I used two men in that example to drive home the fact that I'm not talking about sexual attraction here (that's a whole 'nother kettle of fish!) I'm thinking more about those times when you have some sort of sustained, unusual experience with another person or a small group: a crisis at the office, a deep philosophical discussion at a party that lasts until dawn, or any other time when - in the moment itself - it feels like walls are coming down. I'm the type of person who, when that happens, expects the bond to outlast the event itself; and I'm often disappointed to discover that it hasn't. As I reflect on the people I've become closest to over my life - Vicki being foremost on that list - I can see a common trait among them which is that they all behaved, at least, as though they felt the same contact with me as I had toward them.

Vicki's theory on it is that some people simply don't want or need to give it that kind of meaning, preferring to limit those kinds of intimacy (of feelings) to their immediate family or very, very closest of friends (typically one best friend). Since she and I both come from small families, she believes that maybe that's why we're both wired to be open to new connections in that way. Most people, on the other hand, have more "home bodies" than she and I do, and therefore may be more resistant to such spontaneous forms of bonding. (Our friend Julie, if she read this blog, would no doubt find this whole notion quite interesting! She and I have had a similar conversation on this topic.)

Me, I wonder if it's more evolutionary in nature. Perhaps it's disadvantageous to be that empathetic outside of your immediate tribe, because you were too likely to be killed by whomever you trusted so. That, of course, would suggest that I'm an example of someone who would have been culled from the species 100,000 years ago, because I extend trust much too easily for my own good.

Anyway, we eventually watched the rest of the Mad Men episode, and it was excellent. The fourth season, which we're now a little more than halfway through, has been a joy to watch so far.